•* jV * ^ 



Author 



Title 



Imprint 



COBWEBS 

GERTRUDE ROGERS 




BOSTON 

RICHARD G. BADGER 

1907 



Copyright 1906 by Gertrude Rogers 
All Rights Reserved 



[uitRft«Y of CONGRESS 
Iwo CouJ«s K«»v«>d 

CopyrwrM Entry 

CLASS 'A KXc, NO. 

COPY 0. 






COBWEBS 

THE poet's fancies rest upon the world, 
As cobwebs on the grasses lie unfurled; 
A fairy garment by some sprite forgot, 
Of stars and moonlight, of all wonders wrought ; 
Diurnal memories of the dreams of night, 
That leave behind ethereal blessings bright. 



TO THE SYLVAN GODS 

WHEN from the golden courts on high 
The gods of old Olympus fell, 
O'er all the world there rose a sigh, 

From every vale and dell. 
The sylvan gods of wood and field, 

Condemned the weary earth to roam. 
Bewailed the gates encircling sealed 
That shut them from their home. 

But hark ! soft through the falling rain 

A silvery pealing trumpet sounds! 
Spring gently calls them to her train, 

And sends them on her rounds. 
They touch with rouge the budding rose. 

And shape each graceful primrose cup ; 
They mould each lovely flower that blows, 

Each bird they whistle up. 

When Summer's pulsing music clear 
Bursts forth with trancing melody, 

They train each little player here 
To perfect harmony. 
4 



And with the first chill Autumn wind 
All to their brushes quickly fly, 

The richest, gayest tints to find 
The fading leaves to dye. 

Listen ! hear Winter's drum-beat loud 

Of icy rain and clattering hail! 
The sky is full of driving cloud 

And birds that southward sail 
The buds with cotton must be wound, 

Earth's clinging snowy mantle flung; 
Diamonds be sprinkled on the ground, 

And trees with silver hung. 

When from the golden courts on high 

The gods of old Olympus fell, 
O'er all the world there rose a sigh 

From gods of vale and dell. 
Earth called them to her service fair, 

And wooed them with her azure eyes, 
Till busy with her errands rare 

Their lurking sorrow flies. 



MASTER OF HARMONY DIVINE 

MASTER of harmony divine, 
My jarring instrument refine, 
The restless soul command ; 
Draw taut the loose and jangling strings, 
Where lingering harshness clings, 
With Thy benignant hand. 

To cadence tune the quivering strings, 
Till no discordance clings 

To their appealing tone; 
The warring elements of life 
Shall cease their tiring strife, 

Rebellion flown. 

When the perfected hour appears. 
The consummation of the years, 

And Birth and Death shall, meet ; 
The trembling chords at Thy command 
Shall break beneath Thy hand. 

The melody complete. 



SOME DAY 

O grieving heart, through every lingering day 
A single ray of brightness threads its way ; 
As when the sun breaks through the boding shroud 
Of storm, heaven's blue gleams 'neath the lifting 

cloud. 
It is the thought that fleets the dragging years, 
And gives me strength to wipe away my tears: 

Some day the weary, lonely path I tread 
Will turn into a way I used to dread — 
The road that leads into the realm to be. 
The other side the world from thee and me; 
There I may look through clearer eyes, and guard 
Thee, walking yet the earthly pathway hard. 

Who knows, may even help thee on thy way, 
So thou shalt look toward heaven and say : 
" She whom I love hath said a prayer for me, 
And roused my slumbering faith again to Thee. 
O God of pity, if it be not wrong. 
Make not the lonely years of waiting long." 
7 



Some day, some happy day, thou too shalt turn 
Into the well-worn path that seeks the bourne 
Which all must some time find, each soul alone; 
There thou wilt see a face which thou hast known. 
There our twin souls, severed in earthly clime, 
Shalt ever mated be by love and time. 



THE FLAME UPON THE ALTAR 

THY lips, Beloved, with their pure, pure flame, 
Kindled upon the altar of my heart 
The fire of the spirit, set apart 
From earth ; ever it upward strives to claim 
The guerdon of the stars, the holy name ; 
Emboldened by thy love to highest mark, 
The mounting flames dispel the fleeing dark, 
And ask of heaven an eternal fame. 

Thou art the sacred image set above 
The golden altar and its glowing lights ; 
The truth that aids my being to aspire — 
To climb the steeps of consecrated Love. 
O glorious visions of those radiant heights, 
Blazoning my spirit with immortal fire! 



THE SANCTUARY 

I LOVE thee, and my spirit fain would raze 
Each barrier between us to the ground ; 
My lowest depth and farthest height I'd sound 
Before thy loving, understanding gaze. 
Yet even as I try through shortening days 
To teach the secrets of my self profound, 
There is a something that thou hast not found, 
There is a curtain that thou canst not raise. 
Within the inner temple of my soul, 
Where the eternal spark of God burns high, 
An altar sends above its precious toll. 
And drooping wings bring visions of the sky; 
Within that sanctuary of my spirit's whole 
Always are we alone, my soul and I. 



lO 



COME NOT 

COME not while the gay world is at thy feet, 
Calling thee " Master," treating thee as king ; 
When the days fly on rosy wings, as fleet 
As those of birds that the dear home land seek. 
Ah, come not then and ask me for my heart, 
When in thy life it takes so small a part. 

Wait till the heedless world has passed thee by, 
And left thee by the roadside wounded sore ; 
Old comrades pass with but a questioning eye, 
That wonders who thou art, and why thy sigh. 
Come then, and at my feet thy sorrows pour, 
Freely I'll give to thee of love's great store. 



II 



HIDE AND SEEK 



AT the lazy twilight hour 
-^ ^What a romp we see; 
To and fro upon the lawn 
Sun and shadows flee. 

Such a game of hide and seek 
Shade and sunshine play ! 

Shadows here, sunshine there, 
Laugh and dance so gay. 

Merry, merry is the game 

Shade and sunshine play ! 

But I always wonder why 
Darkness wins the day. 



THE CLOISTER 

THE roses fade, the petals fall, 
Fall to the earth and disappear; 
And June her ragged mantle flings — 
Past is her beauty and her cheer. 

The music falters and is still, 

And all its harmonies are dead; 

The song that clung upon our hearts 
Has loosed its fairy hold and fled. 

The roses fade, the music dies, 

But where the memory dwells apart; 

The incense and the melody 

Are throned within the cloistered heart. 



13 



SERENADE 

''V TEATH the moon's pure, silvery ray 
X^ Lies the world in slumber deep; 
Gone the garish light of day, 

All its troubles lost in sleep. 
Midst the shadows of the night 

Fairies dance in merry round, 
Tinkhng music of delight 

Fills the limpid air with sound; 
And beneath thy window, Sweet, 

Love and rapture meet. 

Wake, and listen to my song, 

With its wealth of adoration; 
Keep me not in torment long. 

Hear my lowly supplication. 
All the maddening bliss of earth 

Throbs within my pulses warm ; 
Come, and wake my heart to mirth 

With the magic of thy charm. 
Come, for 'neath thy window. Sweet, 

Love and rapture meet. 



14 



PLEADING 

GIVE me the key to thy heart, Sweetheart, 
That I may come to thee. 
And reign on the throne that stands apart, 
Waiting for Love and me. 

Give me a part in thy spirit. Dear, 

That when our life is past, 
The grace of thy moonlight soul so clear 

Shall lift to heaven at last. 



SURRENDER 

LOVE, take my willing hands in thine, 
And lead me in thy way; 
Desirous of thy touch divine, 
I've waited for this day. 

Love, touch thy burning lips to mine, 

Kindle my soul's desire ; 
The clinging dross of earth refine 

With thy consuming fire. 

Love, lay thy magic on my eyes. 

Thy clearer vision give ; 
To realms of joy my soul shall rise, 

On heavenly heights to live. 



i6 



MORNING 



THE rosy fingers of the morn 
Are knocking at the gate; 
The shadows of the ghostly night 

Steal softly from their fete. 
There is a splendor on the hills, 

As darkness fades away; 
The music of the sunrise thrills 
In welcome to the day. 

The rosy fingers of the morn 

Are knocking at my heart; 
The shadows of my loneliness 

With hurried steps depart. 
There is a glory in the sky, 

And high in heaven above 
A lark sings from his joyous soul 

You come, and all is love ! 



TODAY 

T)EL0V£D, when you held me in your arms, 
'■^ Safe in that haven from the world's alarms, 
How could I dream that joy could ever die, 
So happy I ? 

How could I dream that our triumphant day 
Could change and fade into a yesterday? 
But lo, there springs from our today so sad, 
Tomorrow glad ! 

Soon the swift pageant of the marching hours 
Shall bring again the moment that is ours; 
And I, out of the depth of joy, shall say, 
This is Today! 



i8 



IF 

IF I might play upon my changeful heart, 
As on the strings of some old viol sweet, 
The mighty Israfel would stand apart 

In mazed wonder at the sounds that greet 
His ears, though tempered to the music strange 

Of his own beauteous, living instrument. 
Pulsating tones from grave to gay would range. 

Rising with lashing fury to relent, 
And fall into the calmest, purest strain; 

Just as the passion and the peace of life 
Strive each for victory. So angels fain 

Would sing and may not. Only daily strife, 
The earthly battle, can inspire the hand 
To strike the waiting chords to music grand. 



19 



A GOLDEN SUNSET 

WHEN the morn wakes in gloom and brood- 
ing cloud, 

Sulky as maiden cheated of her will, 
Bud, bloom, and leaf all wear the dusky shroud 

Of mist; as our dejected hearts grow chill 
We pray that noon may brighten the dark day. 

But midday comes without the longed-for light ; 
The pall of storm increases, with no ray 

Of sunshine bringing gleams of promise bright ; 
Hopeless we wait, when lo, the sunset clouds 

Glow crimson in the western sky ! The sun 
Is ours for a brief, happy space, that crowds 

Away our sadness as the day is done. 
If in the morning of our life clouds lower, 
Still grant, O God, a golden sunset hour. 



20 



JUNE 

XT is June! 

Every singing bird's in tune, 

Violets slip their hiding green, 

Lilies from their tall stalks lean. 

It is June ! 

It is June ! 
Robins chant a mystic rune, 
Gone the winter's haunting gloom, 
And the rose of Love's in bloom, 

For it's June ! 



ALL SOULS 

O LITTLE soul that God sent from me 
Into the unknown dark, 
Come to me on this mystic night, 

And knock upon my heart. 
Come as the evening shadows fall, 

While cares of day depart; 
Climb on my knee, and lay thy head 
Upon my throbbing heart. 

O little soul that God gave to me, 

What has He done with thee? 
Come to me on this mystic night, 

And whisper low to me. 
Tell me if through the passing days 

He guards thee happily; , 
Tell me if when you tire of play 

He takes thee on His knee? 



O little soul that God sent from me 

Into the unknown dark, 
Come to me on this mystic night, 

And knock upon my heart. 
Come as I sit before the fire, 

Swift bid my fears depart; 
Ah, come, and whisper in my ear 

Thou art happy where thou art. 



23 



AT TWILIGHT 

'♦Tt/rOTHER, mother!" I hear a little voice 

■L^A. low-calling, 
When the day is done and the shades of night are 

falling. 
Hark ! I hear a stumbUng footstep cHmbing up the 

stair ; 
My baby's coming to my knee to say his evening 

prayer. 

" Mother, mother ! " that voice I love so well is 
crying ; 

But oh ! the lonely truth within my heart is sigh- 
ing: 

It is my hunger and my love that listen for him 
there, 

For God and His good angels hear my baby's 
evening prayer. 



24 



WHO KNOWS 



TT /"HEN the bird on failing wings 

Broken-hearted dies, 
Or the string that sweetness flings 

Mute and shattered lies; 
When the glory of the day, 

That with radiance glows, 
With the sunset fades away — 

Is it all? Who knows? 



25 



THE BEST OF ME IS GONE 

WHEN I am hushed in the last sleep of life, 
With tired eyes fast closed forever, 
No more to seek for thine with laughter rife, 
Or with beseeching tears brim over ; 
With hands once restless quieted at last, 
Lying all motionless upon my breast 
Above the ardent heart that held so fast 
Love, life's most precious guest, 
Weep not above the dull, unheeding clay. 
The house that sheltered me a little day — 

The best of me is gone. 
Kiss not the lips no more to thrill to thine, 
Portals through which of old came bliss divine — 

The best of me is gone. 
Call not upon the eyes to open wide, 
To see the lovelight they no longer hide — 

The best of me is gone. 
The soul that lived and loved is there no more. 
The best of me has gone, and closed the door. 



26 



T 



IN NOVEMBER 

^HE flames of the autumnal fires 
Are dying fast, 
Leaving but embers of desires 

Whose warmth is past. 
November by the ashes stands, 

Silent and pale; 
Trying to warm her chilly hands 

By fires that fail. 



27 



LOVE UNBIDDEN 

GIVE me the love unbidden, 
Whose sway cannot be hidden, 
Nor sudden power chidden, 

More than fleet time be checked; 
Give me the moment's gladness, 
Love's great, consuming madness. 
Though plundered soon by sadness, 
With bitter teardrops decked. 

Give me the love o'erpowering. 
With joy my spirit dowering. 
Though fate may watch me glowering 

'Neath heavy brows of woe ; 
Give me the bliss unbeckoned, 
The rapture all unreckoned 
By hours, or days, or seconds, — 

Then I defy the foe! 



28 



TO NANCY DANCING 

AH, Nancy, 
When I see you dancing, 
I dream of fairies 'neath the moonlight bright, 

Swaying in rounds of grace entrancing 
To soft, enchanting music of delight! 

Ah, Nancy, 
When I watch you dancing, 
Each dainty footstep falls upon my heart; 

The radiance from your blue eyes glancing 
Inflicts a lasting wound from Cupid's dart! 



29 



REMEMBER 

LOVE, when Sorrow brings thee pain, 
And thou wouldst weep ; 
Remember, thou art flaming light 
Midst shadows deep. 

Love, when Fate hath made thee poor 

Of gems of earth ; 
Remember, only thou art rich 

In perfect worth. 

Love, when Death shall make thee tremble 

Before his portal; 
Remember in that sombre hour — 

Thou art immortal ! 



30 



THE FLUTES OF FAIRYLAND 

WHEN twilight falls upon the hills, 
And hushes all the murmuring rills; 
When shadows steal among the trees, 
Coquetting with the gentle breeze. 
The horns of Elfland faintly blow. 
And fairy flutes sound soft and low. 

The full-toned orchestra of day 
Lies quiet 'neath the evening gray, 
Save where beneath the clustering leaves 
The nightingale in rapture grieves. 
Hark ! hark ! to horns that faintly blow, 
While fairy flutes sound soft and low ! 

These are the magic, mystic hours 
When realms of Fairyland are ours ; 
We hear the music of our dreams, 
As the first star upon us gleams. 
Hark ! hark ! to horns that faintly blow, 
While fairy flutes sound soft and low ! 



31 



IN APRIL 



H 



EAR the patter of the rain, 

It's April; 
Tapping at the window pane 

Is April. 
" Look at me," she gayly cries, 

" I'm April; 
And I'm washing Winter's skies 

In April." 

" I am cleansing earth for Spring, 

She's coming; 
Soon the world with song will ring, 

Spring's coming! 
From the southward birds take flight, 

Spring's coming ! 
They will find the old earth bright 

For her coming." 



32 



A STAR SONG 

TF I were a star in heaven above, 
"*■ And you a lily tall, 
Into the deep abyss of love 
Without a thought I'd fall. 

Under the silvery summer moon, 

Softly to earth I'd sway; 
When 'neath my kiss you'd helpless swoon, 

I'd bear you swift away. 



33 



NOT ONLY ON THY KNEES 

NOT only on thy knees in the broad day, 
But in the hidden corners of thy heart, 
Where sleep thy secrets from the world apart, 
Give thanks for watchful guidance of thy way; 
Thanks for the thickly scattered seed of May, 
The harvest garnered by the farmer's art 
To succor thee when the warm sun is dark, 
And storm and cold struggle in chilling fray. 
Thank God who holds thee in His mighty power 
Bringing thee safely on from year to year; 
He knows the meaning of the evil hour, 
Hearing thy moaning with a pitying ear. 
When thou art fainting beneath sorrow's dower, 
He will support thee into heaven's cheer. 



34 



HARMONY 

GOD sweeps His hand over the strings of life, 
And music answers, sounding near and far ; 
In rapture pealing or with sorrow rife, 

Sweet-toned, and then with discord all ajar. 
To earth-trained sense no harmony is clear. 

No mighty symphony of human praise; 
Faulty the sounds that come to mortal ear, 

Knowing but fragments of the song we raise. 
But in God's perfect time each one shall hear 

The thrilling, blended hymn of men at last. 
Wrought by the weary round of year by year 

Of sorrow, suffering, joy, and labor past; 
Moulding to melody each faulty soul 
To be a portion of the perfect whole. 



35 



A MODERN LULLABY 

QLEEP, baby, sleep, 
As the shadows creep. 
Father is o£E on the hills away, 
Chasing the golf ball all the day; 
Soon he'll come home and bring to thee, 
A trophy fine for his babe to see. 

Sleep, baby, sleep ! 

Sleep, baby, sleep, 

Sink to slumber deep; 
For you must grow as fast as you can, 
To follow the golf ball like a man. 
Your father is champion of the game. 
And yours 'twill be to surpass his fame. 

Sleep, baby, sleep ! 



36 



TOO LATE 

THE garden full of flowers gay 
Beneath the golden sunshine lay. 
The hum of summer filled the air 
With melodies of sweetness rare ; 
The only note of discord there 
Was a Bumble Bee grumbling in despair. 

" Lilies, graceful, proud, and white, 

Coquettish roses with petals bright. 

Coy violets peeping from 'neath the leaves, 

And hollyhocks swaying in the breeze — 

All sweet, but which shall I choose?" said he. 

This grumbling, rumbling Bumble Bee. 

He grumbled and rumbled the livelong day. 
Till the sinking sun shot a warning ray. 
"Zoom, zoom," said the Bee, "if I taste at all 
I must quickly choose ere the darkness fall." 
He hastened to seek the nearest flower. 
But lo, it had closed at the sunset hour ! 



37 



From one to the other he wildly fled, 

But lilies, violets, and roses red. 

All had folded their petals fair, 

Not one delicious heart was there ! 

" All sweet, but not one for me," sighed he. 

The grumbling, rumbling Bumble Bee. 



38 



THE SUNFLOWER AND THE BUTTERFLY 

A SUNFLOWER said to a butterfly: 
'^ ^ a Day after day to escape I sigh, 
I tire of standing so straight and tall, 
The sentinel of the garden wall. 
Lend me your wings for but one short day ; 
Let me for a little time be gay." 

So away on eager wings he flew 

To taste the flower bedecked with dew; 

But as evening fell straight back he came, 

Though with drooping head and somewhat lame. 

" Take back your wings, 'tis enough for me, 

The world is not what it seems to be." 



39 



AN AUTUMN BACCHANAL 

^ I ^ HE leaves of Autumn, drunk with Summer's 
■*• wine, 

Dance a gay bacchanal; 
They reel beneath the barren trees 

To the wild music's fall. 

To the wild music of the beating winds 

That in a frenzy swirl; 
The crashing fury of the cymbal's call. 

As fallen branches whirl. 

In splendid robes of crimson and of gold 

They fleet in elfish round, 
Till one by one they fade and fall 

And sink upon the ground. 



40 



IN OCTOBER 

GIVE me no pallid ardors of the spring, 
The snowdrop's misty white, 
Nor lilies' chill delight, 
That evanescent odors on the breezes fling. 

Give me October's strong, imperious hand. 
Her sacrificial fires, 
Flaming with warm desires. 

That send autumnal beacons o'er the land. 

And when I gave, so did I yield my all; 

In no uncertainty. 

But glad entirety. 
And with the glorious relinquishment of fall. 



41 



TO THEE 

WHEN the awakening sun is coyly peeping 
Above the fleecy clouds of morn, 
Sending bright shafts of radiance creeping 

Into each night-bound spot forlorn ; 
The birds awake, their matins singing, 
A song of love each to his mate; 
And I, hearing the music ringing, 

Awake from dreams that held me late 
To think of thee. 

To think of thee through day's long toiling. 

At full of morn, and heat of noon, 
Until the lengthening shadows coiling 

Foretell that evening cometh soon. 
Then when the night wind softly sighing 

Sings through the leaves its sleepy song; 
When glare and noise of day are dying, 

Hushing to quiet peace erelong, 
I dream of thee. 



42 



A ROBIN SONG 

CROCUSES are peeping through the snow, 
And the breath of spring is in the breeze: 
Soft it waves the treetop to and fro, 

Whispering secrets to the budding leaves ; 
While upon the loftiest height 
Pipes the robin to his mate in flight — 

Courage, courage, Sweetheart dearie, 
Though thy way be long and weary ; 
Love is watching, waiting thee. 
Courage, Sweetheart dearie. 



Jocund May routs all the winter's cold, 
Every tree is canopied with green ; 

Dandelions spread their cloth of gold. 

On the brooklet's edge the lilies lean. 

See the brooding mate upon her nest, 

Hear the robin singing her to rest — 

Courage, courage, Sweetheart dearie, 
Though the days are long and weary 
Love is watching over thee, 
Courage, Sweetheart dearie. 



43 



Summer sunshine dyes the roses red, 

Paints the feathers of the robins bright; 
Fledgelings soon with trembling wings have fled 

In their young endeavor and delight. 
Empty is the nest so full of late, 
Hear the robin comforting his mate — 

Courage, courage, Sweetheart dearie, 

Though empty nests are dreary; 

Love again will make thee cheery, 

Courage, Sweetheart dearie. 



44 



SCALA SANTA 

/^ STEPS of life, stretching to unknown height, 
How worn thou art with marks of aching feet ! 
How stained with blood of martyrs for the right, 
And pilgrim's tears whose eyes thy summits seek. 

O steps of life, so quiet, still, and deep, 

That lift our striving hearts to realms above; 

E'en while our clumsy feet but slowly creep 

Along the upward way to Heaven and Love ! 



45 



WILL HEAVEN GIVE US JOY 

OGOD, who temperest our mirth with grief, 
And to the rosebud sweet hast joined the thorn 
Who hast ordained the passing of the leaf, 

The mournful fading of the happy morn ; 
Will heaven give us joy without a tear, 
And perfect rest without a lingering fear? 

O God, who hidst within the violin's heart 
A wail as plaintive as a human cry; 

So in the gayest tune there stands apart 
An undertone that voices nature's sigh; 

In some sure-coming day shall we be taught 

What tone may be that joy alone hast wrought? 

O God, who showst the world what love may be. 
And yet hast made our earthly love so frail ; 

A fleeting moment's joy 'twixt thee and me. 

Then gathering gloom and the dividing veil ; 

Oh, shall we know in some all-glorious day 

What love may be, escaped from sorrow's way? 



46 



TOMORROW 

LIFE like a winding road leads on 
O'er meads and valleys fair; 
From sloping hills we greet the dawn 

In morn's inspiring air. 
And ever with enticing, beckoning hands 
Beyond our reach Tomorrow stands. 

At noon from some exalted height 
The day's full splendor flames; 

In the strong vigor of its might 

Each heart its birthright claims. 

But ever with enticing, beckoning hands 

Beyond our reach Tomorrow stands. 

The sunset glows aslant the road 
Where stealthy shadows creep, 

Our steps grow slower 'neath the goad 
Of heavier duties deep. 

Yet ever with enticing, beckoning hands 

Beyond our reach Tomorrow stands. 



47 



The pall of night falls over all, 

Sad, lonely, is the way ; 
With failing strength we nearly fall — 

But what that beckoning ray? 
It is the gleam of those illusive hands — 
Almost within our reach Tomorrow stands. 



48 



THE MONASTERY 



THE MONASTERY 
(A dramatic poem) 

THE NARRATOR 

THE splendor of the moonlight falls 
On lofty hills and hoary walls ; 
Its shaft of light upon the river, 
Silvers the ripples flowing, flowing ever; 
Quiet the gentle night, 
Beneath the peaceful light. 

Upon the river's pallid edge, 
Where lilies bloom amid the sedge, 
Stands a monastery old. 
Beneath the starshine cold ; 

Old it is and gray, 

And accursed today. 

Hark ! What sets the echoes flocking 

In sounds of revelry so mocking? 

All the powers of darkness throng 

To listen to the wicked song; 
It is the monks accursed. 
Who quench their evil thirst! 
51 



MONKS 

Oh, lift your feet and follow the way 
That leads to the dark and fiery day, 
When the Master calls to each separate soul 
To render quickly his asked-for dole; 
Yea, follow the luring, dancing fire 
Of your passionate, starving heart's desire ! 
Like a will-o'-the-wisp in the black, black night, 
That swings its treacherous, twinkling light 
Now here, now there, will it lead you on. 
Till you fall and die in the early dawn. 
Yea, lift your feet and follow the way 
That leads to the dark and fiery day! 

Yea, Brothers, drink, with the cup raised high. 
Till the stein is empty, the flask runs dry; 
Heigh-ho for the praise of the running wine. 
The ruddy child of the sturdy vine ! 
It stains the hands with its murderous red. 
It runs through the web of life its thread ; 
'Tis the fatal gift of our Master, the Devil, 
To lead us the faster in his revel. 
So, Brothers, drink, with the cup raised high, 
Till the stein is empty, the flask runs dry! 
52 



THE NARRATOR 

Louder the song 
Lifts its voice of wrong; 
Swiftly o'er the darkening sky- 
Black the storm clouds fly; 
And on the trees 
The shivering leaves 
Quiver as the cold winds sigh. 
O heedless monks beware, 
No longer heaven dare! 

MONKS 

Yea, lift your lusty voices high. 

Till the chorus reaches the shuddering sky; 

Sing the song of the luring road 

Where Evil is prodding us with his goad ! 

Oh, lift your feet and follow the way 

That leads to a dark and fiery day. 

And drink as you go of the running wine. 

The ruddy child of the sturdy vine ! 

O Brothers, lift your voices high, 

Till they knock on the vault of the shuddering sky ! 



53 



THE NARRATOR 

Slow the river creeps, 

Sullen are its deeps, 

Black and blacker grows the night, 

Lurid the flashing light; 

The thunder's roll 

Strikes to the soul, 

And see the lightning bright! 

Lo, the monastery old 

Is buried 'neath the water cold ! 



Again beneath the stars' bright sheen 

The river flows between its banks of green; 

But ever from its deeps 

A ghostly sound of music creeps. 

The monks repentant, 

Sing beseeching chant. 



54 



MONKS 

O mighty Master of the worlds supreme, 
Thou hast awaked us from our evil dream, 

In grievous depths we lie. 
From the grave we lift the voice of sorrow. 
In mercy grant to us a new-born morrow, 

O hear our piteous cry! 

Well we know the bitterness of anguish, 
For within its shadows dense we languish. 

In sorrow's depths we lie. 
For the erring have no peace abiding 
Lest within God's mercy they find hiding. 

O hear our piteous cry ! 

O God of mercy, grant us of Thy peace; 
From the bonds of sin lamented give release, 

Hear us from the grave ! 
Bring our tortured souls, their wrong confessed, 
To a quiet haven, and Thy promised rest. 

Hear, O God, and save ! 



55 



Aua In ■ f£m 



I IRRARY OF CONGRESS 

015 873 809 



